<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Cinnamon and Lavender by bai_marionette</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019785">Cinnamon and Lavender</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bai_marionette/pseuds/bai_marionette'>bai_marionette</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wonderland [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hades (Video Game 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fairy Hermes, Implied Sexual Content, Implied abuse, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, Trans Hermes, Trans Male Character, Witch Charon, i promise it's a happy ending i know my reputation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:28:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bai_marionette/pseuds/bai_marionette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They shared breath, magic, and a cup of tea in the evenings; they shared forest walks, one-sided conversations, and crisp apples during the day. A brooding witch and an unlucky faerie, what a curious pair.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wonderland [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cinnamon and Lavender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefuckistevvs/gifts">thefuckistevvs</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>huge loving thank you to andy, ty for showing me this pairing and encouraging me to write &lt;33</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="aCOpRe">✧✧✧✧</span>
</p><p>Their tale began with a chance encounter by a river, on an odd and late afternoon in the middle of summer. It had been warm but not humid, the slow pace of a nearby river bringing about a soothing atmosphere to think endlessly about nothing. The witch had been there first, weaving dark thread through a hoop in steady, slow motions with well practiced hands. Bandages covered his face, old blood flaking off ever so often, as a lone eye peered out at nothing. </p><p>A brief flash of orange light and suddenly there were two pairs of eyes staring back at each other. Dark eyes widened slightly before the person grinned with dangerous teeth, bronze hands on slim hips, “Well, hello there, good sir! Don’t suppose you’re in the mood for company of the magical variety?”</p><p>The witch said nothing, words hard to produce in this new body of his, his only forms of communication being hums and groans and moans with the occasional huffs if he really wanted to get his point across to the various no one he spoke with. He hoped his silence wasn’t off-putting to this new person, hoped he didn’t scare them off too, hoped the darkness hid the worst of his newfound deformities, hoped-</p><p>“Hello in there,” the new person was directly in the witch’s space, fully grinning with those dangerous teeth and dark mischievous eyes, fingers decorated in various jewelry woven and braided in ways that the witch did not recognize. “The name’s Hermes, a pleasure to meet you, what’s your name, o’tall, dark, and handsome?”</p><p>The witch blinked and then croaked out a single reply that made him shut his mouth back immediately. He flicked the fingers in his free hand, an old whispering voice saying <em> Charon </em>and then disappearing into silence. The crickets were silent and even the river seemed to give pause.</p><p>Hermes stuck out his hand, still grinning, unfazed, “Well it’s nice to meet you in the flesh, my good fellow! I’ve been watching you for a while, from the Other Side of the pond, so to speak and I-“</p><p>And that was how Charon found his life changed forever once more, changed for the better, he hoped as Hermes further introduced himself as a faerie and that he had usually found humans boring outside of their bloody conflicts between one another, but how he had found Charon interesting and thus worth pursuing. Pursuing how, the faerie never quite explained, but his eyes didn’t explicitly say as prey, so Charon supposed it was fine for now. At least he had someone to drown out the silence for a little while.</p><p>:::</p><p>Hermes came over sporadically at first, still testing the waters to gauge how comfortable Charon was his company, his own anxiety showing in the briefest moments as he peeked out through the trees, and hoped Charon was already there by his usual spot. </p><p>Hermes had never made a friend outside the Other Realm, so to speak, his main company being distant cousins and terse conversations between him and his parents. He had played messenger for a while but when no one was looking, he crept over the boundary line into the human realm, watching almost forlornly at all the humans laughing and cheering with each other. He could not remember a time of true peace at home, mostly fighting and jeers and backhanded comments that would start new arguments. Arguments that he wanted no part in, but felt unable to truly detach himself from, thus, leaving him feeling trapped. How tragic, a faerie robbed of his own freedom, tragic indeed. </p><p>But then there was the witch. There was being here, being on this side of the boundary, being with the mysterious witch with the brilliant violet aura, and Hermes felt at ease in the witch’s presence. Magic pulsated so smoothly about this human, he smelt like salt and wild oak, earth tones, and moss after a good rain. He didn’t talk much but listened so attentively that Hermes often felt the need to ramble and nearly twist his tongue in knots as he tried to make conversation and feel worthy of such attention. Hermes felt listened to, genuinely so, for the first time in a long time. The witch usually brought tea with him, something calming, and it smelt just as wild as him. Hermes always considered asking for some but never quite got around to voicing his request so much as just gazing at the pretty decorated cups and the matching teapot that the witch brought every time. Hermes wondered if it was his only set or if it was simply a favorite. He noticed how the witch never brought food and the faerie wondered if he could eat through the strange bandages on his face or if he only ate while alone. </p><p>Hermes didn’t like the thought of his friend alone. </p><p>It would take the faerie some dozen times of visiting to realize he had begun to look forward to those meetings by the river, to the lone witch who kept tea warm long past when it should have gone cold, and wove dark thread into various depictions of darker flowers, to looking forward to seeing Charon and the beautiful aura surrounding him. </p><p>Hermes hoped Charon looked forward to their meetings too.</p><p>:::</p><p>Charon found Hermes as a fresh breath of air in his dead lungs. He was bright and full of energy, talked a mile a minute, and ran circles around Charon. The faerie liked to ask a million questions a minute as he sped faster than he could talk. Charon found it pleasant, he was thankful that Hermes more appreciated a listening ear rather than a full conversation, enjoying the background noise as he went about and tended to the herbs in his decrepit garden. The worn, broken stone wall still carried his ivy plants well, the lingering ash from ancient battles manifesting as old stains. The stark contrast of bright green leaves growing on the stone ruins reminded Charon of the perseverance of natural life amidst human fallacy, his long hands going still in the dirt, as he was looked down at his ashen, ash grey, corpse-like hands - </p><p>Hermes suddenly appeared atop the stone ruins, brown boots perched perfectly on the heel, the golden wings on his heels fluttering like a bird coming down to land; the faerie tsk’ing to get his attention, smirking, “Hey there, boss, were you even listening to me?”</p><p>Charon’s lone eye blinked slowly, suddenly coming back to himself, and from that dark place in his mind where he almost regretted his immortality, where he forgot how he was still alive, still remembered his beating heart - a heart that he knew would beat faster whenever Hermes smiled at him. He hummed out a question, cocking his head, and watched Hermes parrot him, dark eyes glinting in mischief as the faerie suddenly hopped upon his shoulder. He was always light upon his feet and even more weightless on the witch’s shoulder.</p><p>Hermes clicked his tongue at the witch, crossing his arms over his chest, kicking his feet over the other man’s chest, “I was saying that if you really wanna revitalize this garden like you always claim then you should really see about taking down that wall there.”</p><p>Hermes pointed with his feet, or rather his toes, a detail that Charon found humorous, and the witch wondered why the faerie had brought up the wall. He had been about to voice a question when Hermes said, almost seriously, a rare occurrence, “Sometimes the past leaves walls in us, in the mind. Gotta break those walls down to really build something better, y’know?”</p><p>Hermes said nothing else but continued to perch on the witch’s shoulder, kicking his feet softly, humming to himself, before filling the afternoon air with his endless chatter once more. Charon hummed at the right times and moments, nodded slightly at others, but kept looking at that old stone ruins and wondered if Hermes had been speaking about something else. </p><p>Faeries had an Old World knowledge about them. Hermes was no different, Charon supposed. The witch was still thankful for the advice. He would see about taking down the ruins and putting up a proper fence post for his vines instead. Inwardly, he thanked the faerie upon his shoulder for being a good friend. </p><p>:::</p><p>Hermes often talked like he was thinking aloud in real time. This time was no different as he walked alongside the witch on a recent excursion to harvest mushrooms deeper in the woods. He poked his head into various head-sized holes and laughed when woodland creatures fussed back at him. Charon would turn his head from gathering mushrooms and various roots every now and again when Hermes fell off a tall branch or nearly tripped over an odd squirrel or three. He would give a deep chuckle, an odd rumble in his chest, and it made Hermes’ heartbeat race faster in his ears. The faerie would always shove the feeling down and right himself quickly, exclaiming he wasn’t hurt and had only been testing the ground for mushroom slick. </p><p>Charon would smile beneath his bandages and the gesture lit up his single glowing eye in a way that made Hermes’ own glow back. Gold and violet, violet and gold, a unique perfume of ground spices and wild magic. </p><p>Hermes walked with Charon for a long time, or what felt to him like forever, before the witch deemed his basket full enough to leave. The tall figure, dwarfing over Hermes’ entire frame, would always turn slowly, as if giving Hermes time to run or turn away and a part of him wondered why. </p><p>Hermes would often rush to catch up with long legs already walking away, starting a new thread of conversation almost immediately, grinning for the both of them. He watched how a thin plume of violet smoke would puff out from slits in the bandages, loving how they burst out in the air into nothing, loving how Charon’s lone eye would glow brighter in emotions. </p><p>Hermes wished he could see the other’s face, if only to be selfish, and see what the witch’s smile really looked like. He wondered how often he could make Charon laugh (and not at his expense). </p><p>:::</p><p>Charon had met with Hermes in one afternoon, the faerie had looked frazzled and anxiously checked over his shoulder, before looking back ahead and catching sight of the witch in his usual spot by the lake. Then Hermes grinned and Charon felt like he was looking back at the sun itself. He almost found the faerie too bright to behold, not an eye strain, but just on the edge of being visible to the human eye and not as a human-shaped form of energy.</p><p>Hermes apologized quickly for intruding on the witch’s afternoon, saying he had stepped on toes back with his family, and didn’t want to deal with the initial fallout. Charon had hummed in disagreement and Hermes puffed his cheeks in response, “You’re not the one with annoying siblings.”</p><p>Charon scoffed, holding up three fingers, and Hermes grinned back, holding up a single finger on one hand and five in the other. Charon gave an incredulous grunt in response and Hermes laughed.</p><p>The afternoon went smoothly into the evening, Hermes almost pained as Charon began to clean up his belongings. Hermes thought he would be left behind until his family summoned back home when a pale hand was offered to him. He took it and was suddenly overwhelmed by the powerful waves of magic and sudden onslaught of warmth just beneath Charon’s skin. Hermes instinctively latched sharp nails into the hand, pupils dilating, as he went to lick a particular spot behind the witch’s thumb, teeth itching under his gums for a chance to taste that sweet, coppery blood-</p><p>Then Hermes tasted dirt and he groaned, spitting out a pebble, as he looked up to see Charon walking away. He quickly brushed himself off and ran to catch up. He started to demand an apology and felt a long hand come over his shoulders and pull him under the arm of the cloak. Charon was so warm and Hermes felt enveloped in warmth and magic. He felt enveloped in an old, ancient magic; magic that reminded him of dark storms swirling out to sea, of centuries-old trees reaching up to touch the sky, of waves that ate away at rocky cliff sides, pebbles at a time. </p><p>Hermes didn’t even register that they had left the forest until he opened his eyes to find himself within an old, dark cabin. Charon cooed to an old, black cat that purred and curled around his ankles. Hermes took in the sights, the hanging baskets of herbs and spices, the recently emptied fireplace, old grey stone walls, various books and tomes and stray papers atop an old desk, even more furniture that were likely to be older than the witch himself. It was a home that looked and felt “lived in” and Hermes smiled to himself as he sat upon a high stool next to the metal stove. He chatted endlessly once more, Charon humming in conversation when Hermes paused but otherwise letting the faerie fill the house with something other than silence. </p><p>Hermes smelt something sweet and watched Charon hand him a cup. It was warm and when Hermes drank from it, it tasted sweet and rich, and he smiled as his cheeks took on a darkened blush. Charon undid some of his bandages, letting out a sigh over his beverage, and then sat down in an old wooden chair next to the stove. He flicked a hand in the direction of the fireplace and a fire instantly came to life, fresh firewood burning without smoke or smolder, a comfortable warmth filling the home. The cat took a seat above the fireplace mantle, purring and then curling around herself to rest. </p><p>The two eventually moved to a loveseat, where they were both closer to the fire, still holding onto their cups. Charon sitting first and Hermes throwing his legs over the side of the taller man’s thighs as he continued to talk about nothing in particular. Hermes noticed the upwards turn of Charon’s mouth through the few removed bandages and the sight made him smile. </p><p>Charon finally pushed Hermes’ feet aside to resign for the evening and prepare for bed. The witch waved a hand to dispel the fire just as the faerie felt the first pulls of his family summoning him back home. Hermes felt a sudden spike in anxiety as he worried at his bottom lip, not yet wanting to leave; he resisted the initial calls home and tried to follow Charon up a short flight of stairs. The tugging at his center became more insistent, his feet starting to glow, even as he forced himself to remain on his current side of the boundary.</p><p>Meanwhile, Charon rinsed out their cups and set them aside to dry, hung his wide brimmed hat by a back door, his cloak on a nearby stand, all in practiced movements like the witch had done them a thousand times before. He realized how Hermes had gone quiet, watched the slight tremor in his form, how his eyes looked so determined and pained as he tried to focus on something far off in his vision. Charon stood in front of the faerie, tilting his chin, as he ran a calloused thumb over the other’s tanned cheek. He forced a bit of magic into his palm, easing the other’s expression a bit, only for Hermes to sigh.</p><p>“...They’re telling me to come home, it seems,” Hermes said after a moment. “And very persistently, too. Must still be mad at me,” he tried to laugh. Charon ran his thumb over the faerie’s cheek again, saying nothing; Hermes sighed again.</p><p>“I don’t wanna go back,” Hermes started. “I like it here. You listen to me.”</p><p>Charon gave another pass with his thumb and Hermes leaned into the touch, enjoying the warmth, taking a childish glee in how the witch’s magic better allowed him to resist the call back home. He smiled up at Charon, thankful for the small gesture, “Same time next week then?”</p><p>Charon made that same deep sound in his chest again, nodding, as his lone eye shone bright in the darkened hallway. It almost seemed like he was smiling. Hermes smiled back, Charon letting go of his face at last, and the faerie’s afterglow carrying his last chuckle to a fading chime dying in the wind.</p><p>:::</p><p>“So this is tea on your side, huh,” Hermes said, enjoying how the cup stayed warm in his palms despite the slight chill in the night air. Charon hummed in acknowledgment. Hermes turned the cup this way and that, sniffing at the contents, “Cinnamon - and lavender, I think it’s called?”</p><p>Charon nodded, the pinch of skin at the corner of his mouth going upwards slightly. Hermes smiled back, tipping a careful sip. He smacked his tongue, still smiling, “Not as good as elixir, but I do think I can get used to this.” </p><p>Charon sipped at his own cup, feet tucked under him, the night air filled with the sounds of nocturnal insects and the nearby waves crashing upon shore. The moon was half-full and Charon felt the comforting presence of a ley line under the shaded tree. Going bare faced was still new to him but Hermes had insisted on him removing his facial bandages and showing his face. Charon had initially feared for the other’s disgust or repulsion but found only the same endearing expression. Ever still grinning, eyes bright as ever, but now familiar hands coming up to his skeletal face as Hermes remarked on how lovely he was. </p><p>Charon had scarcely believed it then and still reeled now, even though Hermes had taken a regular habit of touching the slight of his jaw and poking at the absence of a nose in his face. Childish, maybe, but endearing all the less. Charon loved the feel of warm hands, having forgotten how nice it felt to have someone else touch him again.  </p><p>The witch’s skeletal face turned outwards to the waves crashing out before the rocks below. </p><p>Hermes broke the silence, still swirling the contents of his cup, “I like coming out here, with you, at least, you’re good company. Even if you don’t talk much,” he quipped, shoving playfully at Charon’s shoulder.</p><p>Even despite the faerie’s strength, the witch sat firm in his spot, and Hermes loved the heavy presence of magic rushing beneath the surface of Charon’s skin. He wanted to rip the skin open and lay in the witch’s veins and feel the magic wash over him. Every time he touched Charon, it was a wash of warmth over his skin, almost like a light embrace; he knew Charon seldom let others touch him, but he never stopped Hermes. Even as strong as Charon was, as powerful as his magic had become, he had never once stopped any of Hermes’ advances. </p><p>So Hermes indulged himself, leaning against the taller man, kicking his feet over the landing on the cliff side. He hummed sweet nothings and soft songs from a long-dead language just below Charon’s ears. </p><p>Hermes noticed that their cups of tea never lost warmth, regardless of how much time passed. He smiled to himself, only triple-guessing himself this time, and then he reached for Charon’s hand. It felt much warmer than Charon appeared, the rush of magic just under the skin of his fingertips made Hermes’ eyes glow in response. Charon hummed as a question.</p><p>“Nothing to worry about, boss,” Hermes replied, idly turning his thumb over the top of Charon’s hand, delighting in the tingling sensations that ran up and down his spine as he did so. He sighed happily, at last, turning back his attention to the sea as the break of dawn began to creep up on the horizon. </p><p>Hermes looked down at the joined hands, and noticed how Charon tightened his grip just slightly, his emotions coming to the very edges of Hermes’ subconscious. Hermes hummed, “It’s one more night in an oblivion, boss. You know I’ll be back.”</p><p>Charon sighed, violet smoke spewing forth from his mouth. As the smoke disappeared, the faerie watched how some of it came to wash over his cheek despite how that went against the direction of the wind. Hermes wondered how long Charon had held his breath for that one, then remembered that the witch no longer needed air, didn’t need to breathe like other humans, and put aside the thought for later. </p><p>“I’ll be back,” Hermes tried again, then added, “I promise. Scout’s honor.”</p><p>Charon tipped his head back, a lone glowing eye, brilliant and stark in the dark eye socket, staring intensely down at the faerie. His wide brimmed hat tipped with the movement, white hair shifting against the dark of the witch’s cloak. He gave a short noise, almost like a broken moan, and his grip tightened.</p><p>Hermes grinned, form already lightening and aura brightening around him, his laughter like wind chimes to Charon’s ears. Goodbyes had always been hard for him, Hermes’ visits being the highlight of his time, and those goodbyes were always the hardest ones - each and every time they parted ways. </p><p>Hermes lifted the witch’s hand, giving it a brief kiss, a spark making the remaining hair on Charon’s skin lift up from the static. Hermes let go and the witch immediately missed the touch, the faerie already fading away into his usual afterglow; he was smiling but his eyes were just as sad as Charon’s own. His voice barely lifted above the sound of the wind as he faded to nothing but lingering sparkles in the air, “I’ll be home to you again, soon.”</p><p>:::</p><p>Sometimes, Hermes would bring things from the Other Side of the boundary.</p><p>Hermes would bring these things as gifts, meant to be shared, he called them his treasures, and there were various assortments of jewelry and mechanical do-ends and pieces that he couldn’t remember why he had saved. Hermes was proud of each and every single piece, giving illustrious stories of how he had gotten some of them and describing why he liked a certain piece when he couldn’t remember the backstory. </p><p>“This is an old arrowhead,” Hermes said, rubbing his thumb over the sharper edge. He watched his fingertip start to well with blood, before his skin neatly stitched itself back together. He hummed with no particular pattern and then started again, “There was a big war. On your side of the boundary, yes. This is the arrow that has killed someone very close to me. He was a faerie descendant,” Hermes’ voice got harder. </p><p>“I remember his face but no name, it was a long time ago,” the faerie said with a faraway look in his dark eyes. His fingers almost seemed to burn orange, Charon noticed. He put a hand to the faerie’s shoulder, a reassuring gesture, and Hermes let out a long sigh. “His lover went in his place during a big war, because he refused to fight, and then… I think the lover was killed so he went to get revenge, he - he begged for our help,” Hermes choked.</p><p> “But no one helped him,” Hermes looked sadly down at the arrowhead. “The others - they said he was not kin. Because of his birth, because he was not raised with us, even though he was raised by a faerie herself.”</p><p>Charon was silent, as per usual, but rubbed his thumb into the smaller man’s shoulder. Hermes didn’t meet his eyes, voice barely above a whisper, “I tried to go out and help him. We - We had played together. He was my friend, he was practically my own brother. He was kin.”</p><p>Hermes cradled the arrowhead in his palm, “The others saw me helping him… and they cast magic to - to make the arrow kill him. They killed him, they killed him right in front of me, and I was made to watch, it felt like a warning,” the faerie felt a heavy mix of grief and anger well back up inside himself. A face but no name, so long ago, the face almost blurred in his memory, a whole person nearly forgotten. It made Hermes feel ill.</p><p>Charon moved his hand from Hermes’ shoulder to take the faerie’s hand. He squeezed gently, as gently as he could, trying to offer comfort. Charon willed a bit of magic into his palm, watched how Hermes’ eyes glowed when the faerie turned to look at him. Charon waited for him to speak for what felt like a long time, the pair silent, too silent. Hermes was rarely quiet for very long. </p><p>Then Hermes squeezed back Charon’s hand, trying to smile, even though his eyes were wet with the beginnings of tears, “I wonder when they will cast me out, cast me out for only being half, only half kin.”</p><p>Charon pulled the faerie into a hug, letting the smaller man under his cloak wing, shielding him from any wandering eyes in the dark forest, letting the faerie cry into his shirt. </p><p>:::</p><p>There was a time when Hermes did not come back. Charon came to their usual spot, just outside the edge of the forest, and waited. He waited, and he waited, and he waited, and he waited. The sun made an entire trip over the sky, the afternoon butterflies and bees became moths and crickets, and still no Hermes. Charon waited until nearly dusk at their usual spot.</p><p>Charon learnt that he was unable to make tears that day, and the subsequent few weeks after when Hermes had still not returned. </p><p>:::</p><p>Hermes hated being locked in his room. </p><p>All of the room furniture was in ruin, paintings broken, several pairs of brown shoes burnt by magic, hair wild and eyes almost bloodshot under their orange glow. Hermes had bruises and scratch marks, lingering bite marks and the stab wounds of sharp nails. He sniffled in the corner of his room, not even having the energy to wipe his tears, as he hugged his knees to his chest.</p><p>The only remaining intact furniture was the heavy dresser blocking the door, a single sigil burnt into the wood, magic to enchant the dresser to bear ten times its weight, just enough to deter everyone from coming into the room. </p><p>Hermes sniffled again, eyes downcast, as his head throbbed from the constant crying. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed on the Other Side of the boundary. He didn’t know if Charon was still waiting for him, waiting at their usual spot, waiting for Hermes to come back.</p><p>Hermes screamed until his hoarse voice had turned into a weak croak, then took back to sobbing between his knees. </p><p>Again, the faerie wondered when, or rather how soon, his family would cast him out, cast him out from their family, cast him out as a faerie, and be rid of him entirely. Would being severed from the Realm take his powers too, make him human?</p><p>Hermes didn’t know, and the fact that he didn’t know, it scared him even more.</p><p>:::</p><p>Charon had stopped coming to the usual spot when Hermes didn’t show up for a whole season, at least a total of four months, and tried to go back to his life before. He made tea for himself, played with the cat that Hermes had dubbed “Muse,” and insisted on teaching Charon how to play music so that Muse could be entertained. Charon had only memories of his mother’s old harp, but the memory of the tune had long since left his mind, and he shamed himself for forgetting. </p><p>Nonetheless, Hermes had his own instrument for Charon to practice with - a stringed instrument with two brass sides. The faerie called it a lyre, said the instrument had called out to him as a small child, that he had held onto as one of his dearest treasures. It was one of the only things that he had from his mother, the source of his human heritage, he had mentioned once. At least, he believed she was human, no one spoke of her. His father said she was not worth mentioning whenever he was asked. So Hermes stopped asking, instead playing the lyre and memorizing the strings until he can almost replicate his mother’s voice through song. </p><p>Charon reminded him of his mother in a way, Hermes supposed. Charon was warm, he was magical, and he had a laugh that made Hermes want to laugh too. </p><p>Charon missed that laugh too.</p><p>Charon missed the faerie. So he took up the lyre and with Muse in attendance, still laying on her perch atop the fireplace mantle, Charon tried to mimic Hermes. He plucked strings until he memorized the notes and then played the notes over and over and over again until he could play without looking. </p><p>Charon took comfort in the beautiful instrument, marveling at the design, as he played. It took some time and multiple sessions to learn completely but Charon had all the time in the world. It was one evening, almost late for bed, that Charon discovered a little tiny script on the bottom of the instrument. It was barely discernible under the fades of time, but there was a single phrase: <em> Be blessed and remain free, my dearest Hermes.  </em></p><p>Charon wished he could still shed tears, his single glowing eye almost dim in his misery. </p><p>:::</p><p>Hermes sprinted over the boundary line, breath heaving, his wide grin about to break his face, bracing for the itch and scratch when he would crash into branches and stray bushes. He could see Charon in the distance, foraging for mushrooms, the coincidence in the pair’s timing almost miraculous.</p><p>Hermes didn’t even warn Charon as the faerie jumped upon the witch’s back, short legs wrapping around the a cloaked waist, as the shorter man took to wrapping his arms over the other’s shoulders. Maniacal faerie laughter, familiar and very much missed, ringing in the witch’s ears, something wet trailing down from the top of his neck. Charon looked over his shoulder just in time for Hermes to kiss the gap where his nose had once been.</p><p>Hermes grinned with wet eyes and sharp teeth, “Gods, I’ve missed you.”</p><p>Charon wrangled the faerie from his shoulders and into his lap, holding as tightly as he dared, Hermes overjoyed to feel the comforting presence of powerful magic in that warm embrace, still laughing, still grinning. </p><p>The brilliant perfume of cinnamon and lavender coming back in the air. </p><p>:::</p><p>Charon didn’t ask where Hermes had been, he felt no need to, simply content to have his friend back. He carried Hermes back to his remote cottage, almost bridal-style, as the faerie had requested, taking a longer way home and on-foot to enjoy the walk. Hermes babbled on about nothing and everything, how he had missed Charon, how he was excited to have their tea again, how he was excited to see Muse, to see if Charon could play the lyre now-</p><p>The witch was almost sad when he came upon his own doorstep, believing he had to put the faerie down, when the other poked him in the hard line of his exposed jaw bone. </p><p>“Hello in there, boss, are ya gonna carry me through or not?” Hermes joked, waving a hand to open the door. Charon let out a deep noise from within his chest and Hermes recognized it as laughter and laughed along as Charon shifted them to enter the doorway more easily. </p><p>Hermes still refused to be put down, content to be held in one arm, while Charon went about preparing tea. Hermes did remark upon the witch’s strength, a bit suggestively, although Charon wasn’t sure. He enjoyed the compliment nonetheless. </p><p>The faerie still sat across his lap, almost straddling the witch, as he drank from his usual tea cup. He watched Charon use magic to refill their glasses and keep the tea warm long after it should have gone cold. The pair sat together for hours, Charon having put aside his tea to simply be content in holding Hermes as close as he could. Hermes joked that he almost felt like a childhood toy and Charon had laughed again, nuzzling his bony face carefully to the faerie’s neck.</p><p>Hermes sighed, removing one hand from his teacup to pet at the witch’s hair, enjoying the contrast of his tanned fingers parting through white hair. He inwardly wondered if Charon’s hair had always been white or if it had been another color. He had never gotten the witch to speak of his past, the other clamming up as soon as it was brought up, and Hermes felt that there was something there. Something Charon didn’t want to think about or relive in his memories.</p><p>So the faerie simply enjoyed the affection, enjoyed their time back together, time melting by, the sunlight coming through the windows bleeding to the dark of night. Hermes felt the first pulls home and he already knew Charon could tell how late it was, that Hermes would have to leave again. </p><p>Neither wanted to leave, and yet, Hermes felt the tugs get more insistent. </p><p>Hermes’ voice was barely above a whisper, “I think- I think I could stay here. Permanently, I mean.”</p><p>Charon held him a bit tighter, breath he no longer needed somehow still choking him. Hermes kept going, the tugs urging him to return home getting harder to resist, he spilled out words faster than ever, “If I- If I can get away, could I stay here? With you, I mean, you don’t have to answer right now, I just-“</p><p><em> Always welcome here</em>, Charon let out a heavy sigh, the magic he used to cast his old voice always paining him, but he knew Hermes needed a verbal answer. He kept holding Hermes as tight as he could, the faerie’s eyes brimming over as he hugged back as hard as he could. Anyone else and Hermes might have feared he would break their bones, but not Charon, not his Charon, not his solid rock in his very tumultuous life. </p><p>“Thank you,” Hermes said finally, finally letting himself be pulled back home. Charon chased the afterglow, hands shaking as he tried, and failed, to hold onto Hermes. His dead heart twisted and hurt in his chest, he wanted to cry but couldn’t, so he buried his skeletal face in his hands for the longest time and pretended he could weep. </p><p>:::</p><p>“Your immortality,” Hermes started to ask, as he chased a rabbit from ruining his own section flowers in Charon’s garden. Charon hummed in response, waiting for the faerie to finish. </p><p>“Can you, like, pass it on to anybody? Or, like, share it?” Hermes asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. The witch paused, wrist-deep in dirt, as he thought back on the spell. He cocked his head, as he tried to recall, then slowly turned to Hermes and shrugged. He kept staring while Hermes pretended to pull out weeds.</p><p>“Just wondering, y’know,” Hermes replied, words tumbling out faster than he could process them. “In case, I decide on staying on this side of the boundary, maybe. If you want, no need to answer right now-“</p><p>Charon was suddenly in front of him, Hermes having never heard him move, and his hold on the faerie’s hands pulled them from the soil and rubbed circles behind Hermes’ thumbs. Neither of them said anything for a while. </p><p>Hermes was the first to break the silence, “Just think about it, would you?”</p><p>Charon nodded even though he already knew he would do anything to keep Hermes with him. </p><p>::: </p><p>It wasn’t long this time until Hermes came back. It felt like things were returning back to normal, the pair meeting at their usual spot, sharing tea and Hermes talking for the both of them while Charon listened. The witch took them for a short boat ride down the river, the handle of the giant oar both familiar and heavy in his hands. He watched Hermes take in the sights of the river at night. The long fingers of Spanish moss, the rocks wet with water and river lichen, various fish swimming past, the sound of insects buzzing and singing throughout the air. </p><p>Moonlight reflected so prettily on the water’s surface, Hermes thought. But not as beautiful as the boatman who steered them easily downstream, humming an unfamiliar tune. The faerie made note of it but otherwise stayed silent, enjoying the melody. He propped his feet on the empty row seat in front of him, leaning back against Charon, and simply enjoyed the night.</p><p>Hermes thought it was one of the happiest moments of his life.</p><p>:::</p><p>Not too long after the happiest day of Hermes’ life, he succeeded in topping that moment with an even better one. </p><p>Charon was gardening again. The witch had taken down the stone ruins and replaced them with proper fencing, the vines looking all the better for the change. The garden looked significantly better now, much more obvious care having been placed into it since Hermes’ great absence; the faerie was happy to see the garden so vibrant. He noticed how there were so many golden and purple flowers, he noticed and smiled to himself, stealing a few flowers for himself when he thought Charon wasn’t looking. </p><p>Charon definitely noticed but said nothing. </p><p>Hermes braided the flowers into a wreath, biting his lip, as he looked back at Charon pulling up weeds. Sweat formed in Hermes’ palms as he second- and triple-guessed himself before he finally took a deep inhale through his nose and spun on his heel. He hopped upon Charon’s back, easily getting the other’s attention, and felt himself grinning as he switched out the witch’s usual hat for the newly made wreath. </p><p>Hermes materialized a handheld mirror for Charon to see himself, the faerie suddenly anxious, “Isn’t it nice? Orange looks wonderful on you-“</p><p>The faerie suddenly found himself lifted over the witch’s shoulder, yelping before he could catch himself, before being seated into the other man’s lap. Hermes was still slightly disoriented when he felt Charon tip his chin and place cool lips upon his own. </p><p>The lips were composed of magic, that much Hermes knew, not only because he knew Charon didn’t have much skin left to his face, but because of the very rush of power where the witch was touching his skin. It almost made him delirious. The sudden surge of warmth under his lips, of the massive amounts power within such close reach, it all made him latch onto the lapels of the witch’s cloak. He started to moan through the kiss, one leg going to wrap around Charon’s waist, when the witch tried to pull away so that Hermes could breathe.</p><p>“Oh, we’re not done here,” came Hermes’ quick reply, one hand grabbing at the back of Charon’s head to pull him back down. A second leg joined the first and kept Hermes fully wrapped around Charon’s form. Although their skin contact was limited, between Charon’s gentle rubbing up and down Hermes’ sides and the kiss itself, Hermes felt himself on an inexplicable high. </p><p>Hermes didn’t let Charon go until his lips were almost bruised and he was more red under his tan than was likely healthy. He envied how Charon didn’t need to breathe but he did. Nonetheless, he held the sides of Charon’s face, dark eyes warm and glowing with magic. Charon’s lone eye glowed back. Charon smiled and Hermes kissed him again, just one last time, he promised himself, wrapping his arms loosely over the witch’s shoulders.</p><p>The pair didn’t let go for what felt like an eternity, only parting because Hermes’ stomach growled between them, the faerie suddenly recalling he hadn’t eaten before he came, while Charon shook his head and carried them both back to his cottage.</p><p>Hermes wore the witch’s hat while Charon kept the wreath on, both of their hearts full, and spirits lifted above even the highest mountain cloud.</p><p>:::</p><p>Charon was not very good at kissing, he would admit. He had had limited experience prior to his immortality and Hermes had been his first since.</p><p>Hermes was very good at kissing and enjoyed teaching Charon how to kiss him properly. </p><p>Charon was thankful that the butterflies in his chest were imaginary, that his dead heart never gave away his anxiety every time Hermes would stop everything to give Charon a kiss, and then continue talking like nothing had happened.</p><p>Charon felt like a weight had been lifted off his soul.</p><p>:::</p><p>It was while Hermes was away that Charon took down old tomes, hunched over his old notes and enchantment recipes, cursed and grumbled, as he sought after a very specific spell. </p><p>The witch almost knocked over his tea when he finally found it, scanning over dozens of pages of the original text, and then his translations and edits to the recipe. He took his time to read carefully and commit the spell to memory. He checked the finer details and inner workings, double- and triple-checked just to be sure, before he began to pen down a new page of notes. </p><p>This time for Hermes. He would do this for Hermes, his Hermes, his love. </p><p>:::</p><p>Hermes was the one to say it first, he did it so randomly, in the middle of sharing pastries while they were at their other favorite meeting site, the grassy stretch of land by the cliff side facing the sea. He had said it so quickly too, almost too fast for Charon to catch, but the witch had heard it. </p><p>Charon had smiled under his hat, his lone eye glowing a brilliant violet, as he tilted the faerie’s chin upwards with a long finger. </p><p>A single reply came to Hermes’ mind, a thought shared, a brief insight into Charon’s emotions and inner feelings, a telepathic communication enabled through touch alone, no incantation, Hermes almost flushing at the impressive display of magic. </p><p>The faerie felt the witch’s adoration, his compassion, a deep sense of longing and affection, everything that made Hermes feel loved and desired and moved almost to tears. </p><p>A single reply, a short <em> I love you more</em>.</p><p>::: </p><p>Sometimes Hermes behaved on the Other Side of the boundary, just enough to be granted more days across the boundary without being summoned back at nightfall. His curfew had been lifted, Hermes thought bitterly at first, but then shook the negative feelings from his mind as he leapt over the boundary and bounded through the trees, once again catching Charon off-guard and jumping onto his back.</p><p>Hermes loved how Charon would always gently pull the faerie from his back and into his lap, holding him for what felt like forever. The faerie enjoyed the long moments spent with the close feel of Charon’s magic. Powerful, wild but leashed, silent in appearance but under the surface - loud and nearly bursting, explosions just under the witch’s skin, boundless energy that made Hermes swoon every time. </p><p>:::</p><p>Charon was a cruel tease sometimes. He loved to be mischievous whenever Hermes let his guard down or wasn’t paying close attention. Usually, the pranks were harmless. Using magic to turn Hermes’ tea into bitter lemon juice, removing the faerie’s boot and hiding it in plain sight under an invisibility spell, and even making the cat fly over Hermes’ head as he attempted to jump for her. Muse was forever unbothered and Charon would chuckle from wherever, sometimes sitting, sometimes at the stovetop, sometimes even upstairs in a far off room and out of sight.</p><p>But there was one prank in particular that nearly backfired. Charon had decided to test a theory and allowed himself to nick his finger and instead of letting the cut immediately heal, he let it stain over a slice of sweet bread, hiding it under a spread of red jam. Only a single slice and then the cut vanished as if it had never existed in the first place. </p><p>Hermes was still chattering at a mile a minute, head also stuck in a basket of fragrant herbs that they had picked just that morning. He hadn’t suspected anything, had simply shoved the bread slice into his mouth with no hesitation, inhaled most of it before he had tasted the blood.</p><p>Charon hadn’t known what to expect but when he looked up from his cup of tea and saw Hermes staring back at him in a mixed expression of blood lust and carnality, he had been thankful that his tongue had long since gone dry. His throat too.</p><p>Hermes kept direct eye contact as he finished the slice of bread, a knowing look in his eyes, as he purposely licked at his fingers. </p><p>Charon wished he had a mortal body. </p><p>:::</p><p>Sometimes when the pair met up for their usual shared time together, Charon and Hermes would watch the sky. Sometimes they laid side-by-side in the grass, sometimes they sat with their backs touching, sometimes Hermes liked to sit in Charon’s lap, sometimes they were sprawled with limbs entangled together. The last was usually after Hermes had his fill of kissing and was finally sated and would lay still.</p><p>In the daytime, they would watch the clouds, the path of the sun, and the sunset. At night, it would be the stars, the occasional evening clouds, and the moon.</p><p>Sometimes Charon would manipulate the sky above them to make new shapes in the clouds, making Hermes guess the shape. Most of them were random, just a simple flick of the witch’s wrist, and Hermes would coo and awe at the effortless display of magic. </p><p>Charon loved making hearts, Hermes loved when he made them too. </p><p>::: </p><p>Things changed, took a sudden turn, and ultimately began a down spiral. Months of peace and budding affections, a mutual bond of trust and love that made Hermes stumble over his words and left Charon unable to hide the brilliant glow of happiness in his lone eye. It all seemed to happen so suddenly one day when the faerie was late to their usual meeting. Not late enough for Charon to get concerned, but late enough to be unusual. </p><p>Hermes snuck over the boundary line, his heart heavy with bad news, tongue thick in his mouth. He had procrastinated on coming over for what felt like forever before finally peeking out and seeing Charon at their usual spot. Then - then he didn’t remember. There was a gap in his memory and he had just felt this overwhelming wave of sadness. The faerie took in the scent of their usual tea and the smell of something else, he assumed it was food in case he hadn’t eaten before he left again. For once, he wasn’t hungry, and that made him frown.</p><p>Hermes came forward slowly, rubbing at his wrists absentmindedly, he didn’t recognize the golden bands around them. Charon saw him approach and his single eye glowed with emotion. Hermes' eyes didn’t glow back immediately. When the faerie sat down, Charon braced himself for the worst.</p><p>“Hey there, boss,” Hermes started nervously, voice wavering, his eyes looked almost faraway. His voice seemed off, his lips felt weirdly numb. He couldn’t meet Charon in the eyes. “So a bit of bad news, I’ll be going to take some time off again and-“</p><p>Charon tsk’d in the form of a long grunt, coming forward slowly, single eye glowing brightly with an almost violent energy. The faerie could see how the witch’s aura practically dripped with heavy, dark malice through the usual purple streaks. Magic crackled in the air, dangerously, and the faerie beneath that furious gaze trembled.</p><p>Charon snatched Hermes’ wrists, the golden bands hissing in response, violet magic shattering them to pieces, and releasing the spell off Hermes’ person. The faerie let out a sudden gasp, clam-faced, eyes furious and wet with angry tears. He coughed, harshly, repeatedly, until his throat hurt. It took several moments for the faerie’s head to clear from its haze. Charon rubbed along the faerie’s back, soothingly, his own anger having dissipated the moment that he had felt the spell break. He cradled Hermes as tight as he dared, letting out a long sigh as a question.</p><p>Hermes took shuddering breaths, memories starting to creep back in, “They - the others don’t want me coming back. If I come back, they’re going to cast me out, I-,” he could barely finish his sentences, couldn’t stop the first wash of tears, he felt torn apart inside and mixed up feelings awash with mixed up emotions. He took a long time to calm down and Charon gave him every moment he needed. </p><p>Hermes finally regained himself, trying to stifle his sniffling when Charon went to wipe away the faerie’s tears. He gave a weak smile as thank you but the gesture didn’t reflect in his eyes. The spell had done more than just parrot words, the very act of putting the spell on him was more than enough insult to injury to an unfair violation of his dignity and self-autonomy. Hermes felt betrayed.</p><p>There was a heavy silence for a while, Charon holding Hermes’ hands, rubbing his thumb over an unfamiliar scar just under the faerie’s ring finger. He felt worry and concern twist his dead heart into a horrible series of knots; he inwardly hated how much Hermes kept from him, what his life was really like over the boundary, and most of all - what he endured from family every time he was away from Charon. The witch felt helpless. </p><p>“I really did a number on them that last time,” Hermes said quietly, finally rubbing back Charon’s hands. He leaned heavily onto the witch’s front, forehead pressed deep into the other man’s shoulder, if only to hide how his face looked, how defeated and trapped he felt. </p><p>“...could we talk in your home?” Hermes started to ask, voice so much softer than his usual confident chatter. There was a short pause and right as Charon was about to cloak them both, the faerie added even more quietly, “They can’t hear or see me in your home, you have some kind of enchantment.”</p><p>Charon didn’t need to know anything else, Hermes gently guided under his cloak, as they both faded and dissolved into a faint wisp of smoke on the grass. The teapot and matching cups left behind, tea immediately going cold, little snack cakes forgotten. </p><p>In the distance, just outside the boundary, there was a loud shriek of anger. Several angry pairs of gold eyes glowing from within the forest. </p><p>:::</p><p>Hermes wasn’t summoned back home for several days, but every hour, he felt on edge. He would look anxiously out the window, fingers cracking his favorite mug, cursing as he realized and fixing it every time he noticed a new line.</p><p>Charon sat quietly upon the loveseat, one hand holding Hermes’ right, the one with the unfamiliar scar, rubbing back and forth over the faerie’s thumb. He let out a groan as a question. </p><p>Hermes sighed, “I know they’re out there, Charon. If I go outside, the best outcome is them outright killing me.”</p><p>Charon squeezed his hand as gently as he could manage in the sudden rush of anger. He growled and Hermes put down his cup to turn the witch’s face towards him. “They’ve threatened to take away the kinship, I'd be human, just human and I will die. I would wither and age to my true age in minutes, my love.”</p><p>The faerie’s eyes brimmed with tears, lips shaking even as he tried to smile, trying to cock his head and wink like he always do, “I would die and there’d be nothing I could do about it, I don’t have my own magic, that’s just my fae heritage and I-“</p><p>Everything after seemed to happen so fast and yet also painstakingly slow. </p><p>Hermes felt something grab his wrists, his eyes began to glow, a sudden swollen feeling overcoming his tongue, his throat thick with something foreign at the back of his throat, he almost gagged but he couldn’t breathe. He looked up to Charon, eyes confused and then widening as he saw features come into shape. </p><p>The first thing that Charon noticed were how full Charon’s lips were, how his dark skin still glowed with violet magic in his cheeks, how when he grinned now, there was a mischievous tilt and a straggle tooth in the upper right of his mouth where his smile turned crooked. His white hair dimmed down to grey and steadily darker until black hair reached down his shoulders and past his biceps. It was long and curly. </p><p>Hermes looked down again as he felt the weird sensations spread to his limbs, he started to panic, watching how the once familiar orange glow in his hands darkened to a reddish shade and into a steadily violet color. He felt like his voice was cracking as he tried to speak, foreign magic almost overwhelming his senses as it tried to fight back against something. Hermes distantly heard the sound of high-pitched shrieking outside, but he was struggling to open his mouth, “Charon, what are you-“</p><p>Charon kissed Hermes on his forehead, keeping their heads tucked close together, as he hummed a familiar tune, rubbing his thumb over Hermes’ own. His hands were just as dark as the rest of him, although when Hermes took a closer look, he noticed how there were white spots appearing on the witch’s skin, all of various sizes. When the shorter man looked back up at Charon’s face, he had a large white spot over his right eye, a faint pink blush while his eye still glowed violet, while the other remained a faded lavender. Hermes blinked, realizing why the other eye had never glowed as bright as the other, it was milky white and blind, and still shone a beautiful lavender in the candlelight. </p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Hermes breathed as the last bit of magic seemed to settle in him. He felt breath come much easier in his lungs, blinking rapidly to dispel tears, as a dark hand came to rub circles into his cheek. It was still so warm, Charon was always so warm, Hermes smiled, unaware of the new purple glow to his eyes.</p><p>“As are you,” Charon replied, and Hermes took in a sudden intake of breath, a brief rush of heat pooling south, as his face burned. Charon’s voice was rich, deep, and reminded Hermes of the midnight itself. It was also familiar, as he suddenly recalled in the back of his mind how Charon had used magic to say words and short phrases. </p><p><em> That had been his voice,</em> Hermes realized. <em> Gods, that was his actual voice.</em></p><p>Hermes tried to clear his throat, unable to break the smile from his face, tried again, and Charon chuckled. It made Hermes’ face darken even more, swallowing thickly, as he knew he’d do anything to get Charon to laugh again and again.</p><p>Charon reached out to hold Hermes’ face between both of his hands, barely able to finish, “May I?” before Hermes was nodding vigorously. Charon laughed again and Hermes grinned so hard that his cheeks hurt.</p><p>“Thank you,” Hermes breathed. “You didn’t have to-“</p><p>“I have no need for immortality if it is not spent with you,” Charon interrupted. Hermes attempted to swallow past the lump in his throat, tried to stifle a sniffle but ended up crying over a shaking smile. Charon had a unique talent for making him cry, but there was never any sad tears, every tear that he had shed with Charon had always been happy; as his eyes spilled over all the excess bits of love that he couldn’t contain inside himself. </p><p>Hermes cradled the hands over his face with his own, barely able to get out, “I love you so much.”</p><p>Charon tilted Hermes’ face back up, smiling, before pressing a long, deep kiss to Hermes’ lips, the pair sharing breath between the small space between them, “I love you more,” he repeated and Hermes melted, the witch adding on, “More than you’ll ever know.”</p><p>Hermes smiled amidst his tears, seeing Charon’s bright glowing eye match his own, heart light and leaping in his chest, feeling the witch’s heartbeat through his hands, reveling in how it matched his own. </p><p>:::</p><p>Hermes took a long time to control his newfound magic, having to learn how to manipulate magic unlike his former fae abilities. Latin was not his strong suit and it showed, but Charon was always patient in correcting his pronunciation. There were several afternoons where Hermes attempted to mirror Charon and the spell either sputtered out, didn’t activate, or blew up in weak sparkles in his face. Charon would always try to hold back a laugh while Hermes pouted. The witch insisted that Hermes had plenty of time to practice, all the time in the world, and Hermes inwardly hoped so. If only for him to spend more time with Charon.</p><p>Charon and Hermes still took walks through the forest, taking boat rides every so often, the pair enjoying the endless time stretching out before them. </p><p>Witches were long-lived, Charon had once said, living up to several centuries old. Hermes had tried to ask Charon how old he was but the witch had only smiled.</p><p>It took several tries, attempts at bribery and finally pleading, but finally Charon gave an answer, pouring a fresh serving of tea into Hermes’ favorite cup. Charon could have used magic but he found that he liked sneaking the barest touches between them, loving how it made Hermes squirm even more to feel the rush of magic just under Charon’s skin. It was even more noticeable now, the shorter man had said. It was powerful, overwhelming, and it was awe-inspiring. </p><p>“I am five ninety-three,” Charon said, biting into a sweet cake. Hermes choked.</p><p>“Oh,” was all he managed.</p><p>“Mhm,” Charon responded, a knowing look in his glowing eyes. Hermes swallowed, adjusting how he sat in the grass, trying to shove the rest of the pastry into his mouth before he said anything stupid.</p><p>So Charon knew, he knew, and he was amused. Hermes licked his lips, wondering how long it would take until one of them made that next move. Hermes secretly hoped it would be Charon.</p><p>:::</p><p>It was Charon.</p><p>Hermes couldn’t get the hickeys to fade off his neck for nearly a week. </p><p>:::</p><p>The pair were taking one moonlit ride in Charon’s boat downstream when Hermes opened the newest conversation with a question, “Hey, Charon. Do kids like you?”</p><p>Charon nearly fell overboard while Hermes laughed at him. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>